


The Girl from the Café

by Geonn



Category: Castle
Genre: Accents, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Roleplay, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-10
Updated: 2011-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's easier to take that step when it's not really them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girl from the Café

_"Sometimes when I am bored, I go to Glechik Cafe in Little Odessa and pretend to be Muscovite." - Kate Beckett_

She looked up as he walked in, her attention drawn from 'Anna Karenina' by the quickly silenced whispers rising all around her. She closed the book on her thumb and twisted to see who had caused such a stir. Last week she had seen Jon Stewart hailing a cab. But of all the celebrities she expected to see, Richard Castle was not at the top of the list. She started to hide her face behind her book and scurry away, but she decided that would be silly. Besides, it was kind of odd to see him out in the world like this. He was on his own turf, not exploring hers.

"Oh, thank you very much. Is that Susie with an L or an M?" She couldn't help smiling. He'd become such a part of her life that she'd forgotten that he was a celebrity. _New York Times_ Bestselling Author Richard Castle. She couldn't even enjoy his novels in the same way because she heard his voice in her head when she should have been focused on Derek or Nikki. She twisted in her seat and watched him sign napkins and whatever his adoring fans happened to have available.

He might not recognize her from behind, since she wore a sweater vest over a white collared blouse. She never wore skirts to work, but as a Russian exchange student in her last year of college, she wore a tan skirt and knee-high black boots. She could have simply turned toward the window until Castle left.

But she didn't.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the dog-eared _Storm Front_ paperback that she always kept with her. She rose before she could rethink her plan and joined the scrum of women waiting for their turn to meet the famous writer. She held out the book to him. "To Katerine, please."

He looked up at the sound of her voice, familiar even through the thick accent. His brow furrowed, his head tilted to the side, and he pursed his lips to ask a question. She cut him off.

"I'm big fan, Mr. Castle. You are amazing writer."

"Well, thank you, Katerine. That means a lot to me. How do you spell it?"

She pressed against his side and looked down at the book as he wrote. "Just Kate would be fine."

His pen scrolled across the page. **To Kate, a mystery I'm still trying to figure out. Rick Castle.**

"Thank you so much, Mr. Castle." She put her hand on the side of his head so he couldn't pull away as she kissed his cheek. When she pulled back, he was looking at her in a daze. She smiled and leaned back. She let her hand trail down his face, to his neck, and then come to rest on the open collar of his shirt. "May I have my book back, please?"

They were standing close enough that he didn't even have to reach out to hand it back. He just tilted his hand slightly and the edge of the book rested against her chest. She stepped away as if a sudden breeze had pushed her away from him. "Thank you, Mr. Castle." She turned and walked out of the café, making sure to give her hips an extra sway since she knew he was watching. She was halfway down the block when he started chasing her.

#

The girl from the café turned to face the famous writer, holding her new prized possession to her chest as she waited for him to catch up. She seemed surprised when he invited her out for coffee, but she agreed and let him hail a cab for them both. They had gone several blocks before she let her hand rest on his thigh. She seemed nervous as she looked up at him, asking with her eyes if it was okay. He was tense, but he didn't stop her. He leaned in and gently parted her lips with pressure from his, and her fingers tightened on his leg as they kissed.

The famous writer changed their destination, and the girl pretended she didn't recognize it. She pretended to be overwhelmed by the sight of his apartment, channeling her anxiety into awe. The famous writer cupped her face and whispered a question to her. She answered in the affirmative, her accent nonexistent in the moment before their lips met again. His tongue dove into her mouth and she sucked it as they walked as one body toward the stairs.

The girl from the café let him lead her up to the second floor, let him pull her into the bedroom. They kissed again, a glancing contact before she spun away from him. He kept his hand in hers as she walked brazenly toward the bed. She twisted at the waist, legs crossing at the knee as she sat and leaned back, propped up by her hands as he approached her.

The famous writer bent down to kiss her and eased her legs apart. His hands were strong on her thighs, soft and warm, and she moaned a bit into his mouth as he slid his fingers down to the top of her boot. She fell backward and lifted her leg, letting him peel the boot off of her. He kissed her instep, her ankle, and looked down at where her skirt had fallen away to expose the crotch of her panties.

The girl from the café considered pushing her dress down to protect her modesty, but she decided she liked the hungry look in his eyes. He repeated the move with her other boot, leaving her naked feet on his shoulders. He reached for her face and she took his fingers into her mouth. She sucked two of them, stroking them with her tongue as she kept her eyes locked on his. Once they were wet, he pulled them away from her. She wiped the back of her hand over her mouth and stared at him.

The famous writer pressed his wet fingers against the crotch of her panties. He used a gentle, circular motion that had her squirming in no time at all. He pushed her underwear aside and then his fingers were in her and she closed her eyes. She had been wet since the cab, since their first kiss and when she had felt the denim of his jeans shifting to accommodate the growth at his crotch.

As the famous writer fingered her, the girl from the café reached down and pulled his belt open. She pulled it free with a whipping sound, twisting the leather around her hand and pulling it taut in front of her. She grinned at him, eyes mischievous and dark as she bit down on the leather. He smiled and shook his head in disbelief at her. She tossed the belt aside - maybe a game for later, if he was up for it - and reached for him again. This time she got his jeans open, pushed them down so that they dropped past his thighs, and cupped his penis in her hands.

The famous writer's cock was hard and hot. She used her thumb to touch the underside, stroking it like a piece of clay that she was molding into shape. It became thicker in her hand, aroused by her touch, and she put her free hand on his hip to guide him closer. Her legs were still on his shoulders, her body bent in an awkward position. But she didn't care. She wanted him, needed him.

The girl from the café closed her eyes as his erection pressed against the flimsy material of her panties. The barrier between them was so small, and yet impenetrable, and she moaned helplessly. He seemed in no hurry to correct the situation as he reached up and peeled off her sweater. He unbuttoned her shirt slowly, rocking his hips gently so that the tip of his cock remained a constant presence between her legs as her brassiere was exposed. He stroked her breasts and she arched to the touch, lifting her hips to meet his.

The famous writer unclasped her bra and freed her breasts. She reached down between her legs, pulled her underwear to the side, and he found himself sinking into her unprepared. They both groaned as she wrapped around him.

What's done is done, and he moved his hands to her hips. She took off her bra and saw his eyes glaze over at the sight of her breasts. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her skin as he began to thrust. He was forced to let go of her briefly when she dropped her legs, and she hooked her knees against his sides. She met him thrust for thrust, both of them panting, their faces dotted with sweat.

The girl from the café rubbed herself through her underwear as he slid one hand up to her breast. He cupped it gently, teasing the nipple with his thumb before he bent down and met her lips with a soft, searing kiss. When they parted, his lips sliding along her cheek and her mouth parted in a silent gasp, she broke their unspoken rules and said, "Castle..."

Castle didn't respond, but she knew the spell had been broken. They weren't the girl and the writer anymore, they were themselves. She put her hands on his neck and closed her eyes as he moved against her. She came first, biting her lip and then lifting herself so she could kiss him. She tightened around him and he quickly followed her, pulling out at the last possible moment. She felt his come on her thigh and stomach, her eyes closed as she felt him rubbing against her flesh.

Castle leaned her back, kissed her eyelids and the tip of her nose and then kissed her lips. He whispered, "I'll get something to, uh... I'll be right back." He slipped out of bed and she watched him go, shuddering at the sight of his toned ass. She lay flat on her back, fingers spreading his come into her skin as she stared at the ceiling. She closed her eyes, a contented smile on her face, and she fell asleep before he returned to clean her.

#

Kate Beckett woke to feel Richard Castle pressed against her from behind. He had one arm curled protectively around her waist, and she could feel his semi-hard cock pressing against her ass. The thought made her shudder, and he brushed aside her hair to kiss her neck. "There you are." His hand slid up to her breast and she pressed back against him.

"Sorry." Her voice was quiet; she didn't know who else was in the apartment. "I have a tendency to fall asleep immediately after sex."

"Is that something I'll need to know in the future?"

Kate smiled and turned in his arms, lifting her leg to drape it over his hip. "Yes. Definitely."


End file.
